


Honorary Little Wolf

by dragonflycas



Series: Hybrid Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Weechesters, Wolf!Dean, fawn!sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflycas/pseuds/dragonflycas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam may be a fawn, a prey animal, with a tiger father and wolf brother, both predators, but he'll always be one of them. He's one of Dean's pack. An honorary little wolf.</p><p>This fic does snapshot time-jumps through the brothers' lives focusing on the use of this phrase, starting when Sam is 6 and going through adulthood. The Wincest starts in chapter 4 so you can read the first 3 for just cute young Weechester bonding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natural Enemies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sixstrings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixstrings/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns about wolves in class. Including their diet. He doesn't take it well.

The first time, he’s six.

It’s Predator Week in Sam’s first-grade class. Each day they’re talking about three or four different predators that are common for people to be, and there are sheets to copy down the information on. It’s not that exciting. Well, it wasn’t. Until the teacher announces that today they’ll be starting with wolves. That perks little Sam Winchester right up, sitting ramrod-straight in his seat. His big brother’s a wolf. The strongest, fastest, smartest, bestest one in the world. If he’s that amazing, wolves must be amazing too, right? They gotta be.

The teacher talks about how wolves live in packs with hierarchies (Dean would be an Alpha, no one’s stronger’n him) and how they’re really playful with each other (Dean wrestles with Sam sometimes, but not too rough, ‘cause Sam’s still little, but he’s gonna grow soon, Dean told him so). Then the teacher gets to the hunting part. All predator animals hunt, they’re carnivores and they all have other animals they eat. It’s called the cirle of life, like in the Lion King. Lions are predators too, they eat zebras and antelope.

Wolves eat… deer. Sam recoils when he hears it, eyes going wide, like the teacher slapped him. She doesn’t notice. She keeps talking about how deer and wolves are ‘natural enemies,’ how the wolf pack will get the weakest deer away from their herd and tear them apart.

She notices when Sam begins to cry. The whole class stops and looks at him, and he hates it, but he can’t stop. The teacher hurries over, bends down, tries to comfort him. She thinks he’s just frightened by the idea of deer being eaten. He pushes her away and demands his big brother between his sobs. Someone’s sent to the fifth grade classroom and soon returns with a worried Dean.

Sam launches himself at his brother, buries himself in Dean’s chest and blubbers. The elder Winchester manages to herd his little brother out into the hall where they can be alone, and then kneels in front of him. He reaches out, and gently wipes Sam’s wet cheeks, waiting for the boy to be able to speak.

“Sh-she said that-that we’re… n-natural enemies.” Sam stutters out finally, sniffling and wiping his face with chubby hands. “Wo-wolves eat deer. They c-can’t- I’m-I’m your prey.”

“Shh, shhh.” Dean stops Sam’s hiccuping words, shakes his head and kisses the fawn’s forehead. “Sammy, we’re not animals.” He gathers his little brother to his chest, holds him tight and strokes his hair, under which not even the slightest buds of antlers have begun to show. “You’re not just a deer, you’re a human. You’re my brother, I love you. ”

“B-but we’re so… different. I don’t-don’t belong with you or-or dad, I’m prey…” Sam insists, obviously drawing on more than just the one lesson. He's a smart kid, he understands that people look at him funny because he's a deer with a tiger father and a wolf brother.

“Sammy.” Dean says sternly, cupping his little brother’s face in his hands. “You are one of us, you are… my honorary little wolf. Okay?” He’s not sure where that came from, but the way Sam’s face lights up proves it was a good idea.

“Really?” Sam’s young voice is full of hope, tugging at Dean’s heart.

“Really. You’ll always be part of my pack.” Dean assures.

Sam is still puffy-eyed as he returns to his class, but he's also grinning. Wolves and deer are enemies in the wild, but he and his brother are special, they always have been. He isn’t just a deer, he's Dean’s brother. An honorary wolf. He’d leave out the ‘little’ part if anyone asked.


	2. One of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some bullies tell Sam he must be adopted due to his prey status in a predator family. Dean reassures him.

When Sam is eight, he comes home from school crying.

Dean rushes over, tail bristling, and checks him over for injuries. The boy’s soft skin is unmarred by bruises or scrapes though, which means his tears don’t stem from physical pain.

“Sammy, Sammy, hey.” The wolf kneels down in front of his little brother and gently brushes tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. “What’s wrong?” Sam just continues to cry, so Dean scoops him up and carries him over to the bed. He sits down on the edge with Sam on his lap, rubbing the boy’s back until he feels ready to speak.

Sam sniffles, lips trembling as he tries to keep himself together, then finally takes a deep breath. “AmIadopted?” He pushes out in a rush, staring down at his hands. Dean nearly drops him from shock, eyes going wide.

“What? No! Why would you even ask?!” He’s horrified that Sam could ever think he wasn’t absolutely 100% Winchester.

“There-there were some-some older boys at school…” Sam admits in a small voice, still sniffling but at least there are no new tears. “Predators. They s-saw you and-and dad drop me off and they s-said that I couldn’t be one of you ‘cause-cause…” Dean knows without Sam having to say it. Because Sam’s a deer, a prey animal, and he and John are predators.

“Nuh-uh.” The elder Winchester shakes his head, putting a hand firmly under Sam’s chin and forcing the fawn to look up at him. He’s such a sweet kid, he doesn’t deserve the bullying. Dean’s gonna have to find these boys and teach them a lesson about what happens when you mess with his Sammy. “You’re one of us, Sammy. Through an’ through. Plus, you’re not just prey. You’re my honorary little wolf, right?”

This pulls a hesitant smile from Sam, his long, soft ears perking up. “Right.” He nods slightly, obviously feeling better at the reminder.

“You’ll always be one of the pack, baby boy.” Dean assures, before leading them into the bathroom to clean Sam’s tear-streaked cheeks with a wet washcloth and then taking him out for a well-deserved ice cream


	3. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's antlers come in for the first time.

When Sam is twelve, his antlers come in for the first time.

“Hurts.” He sniffles, curled up on the couch, hands pressed to his head. The pain has caused him to become more childish, his voice raw and his expression vulnerable as he looks up at Dean.

“I know.” The elder Winchester murmurs, wishing there was more he could do. For now, he sits down and draws Sam’s head into his lap, holding an ice pack wrapped in a towel to the boy’s aching scalp. He’s doing really well, considering there are extra bones forming on his head. The kid’s strong, he always has been. Still, it’s obvious he’s in pain.

Sam presses his head into the cool touch of the ice pack, sighing with relief. “Is it gonna hurt this bad every time?” He wonders, voice faltering as he tries to sound brave.

“It’ll get better.” Dean promises, but in truth he doesn’t know. He’ll need to do some research, he doubts John knows either. Their father isn’t even there, like usual, even though Dean called three times telling him Sam was hurting.

Sam watched Dean make the calls, but he never looked very hopeful. He’s stopped expecting John to be there for them. The two butt heads more and more as Sam grows older, pulling apart, causing a rift in the family. Dean is caught between his love for them both.

“Still hurts.” The fawn - is he still a fawn? - admits softly, chewing on his lower lip.

“It’ll be better soon. Just hang in there, okay?” Dean smiles reassuringly at Sam, strokes his hair, like he used to when Sam got sick. “You’re doing really good. You’re so strong, just like a wolf. My honorary little wolf.” The nickname usually cheers Sam up no matter what, but this time it causes a smile too bitter for his years to flash across his face.

“I’m growing antlers, Dean. Pretty sure I’m not a wolf.” He points out, dry, but there’s an edge of sadness in his voice. Lately Sam has felt more keenly than ever that he is different from them, and his antlers are only further proof setting him apart from his brother and father. Sure, they will make him bigger, they will show he’s grown up, but they’ll also mark him as a stag more obviously than his tail or ears ever did. He’ll never be able to hide his nature now, to blend in with his family. Well, only in shedding season. Which barely counts.

“That’s what ‘honorary’ means.” Dean reminds, trying not to think too hard on everything Sam’s antlers mean to him too. His little brother wasn’t so little anymore, and that frightened him. Sam was already rejecting their father, was Dean next? If the fawn, the almost-a-stag, stopped needing him, he didn’t know what he’d do. Sam had been his purpose in life for so long. “Honorary little wolf. And you’re still little, those antlers don’t count as added height.”

For once, Sam doesn’t protest being called short, and the break from routine is actually worse than if they’d had the customary argument over it. Instead, he just closes his eyes and nuzzles into the ice pack. “Thanks, for helping me.” He sighs after another couple minutes.

“Anytime.” Dean absolutely means it. He even feels a little guilty about how happy he is to have Sam close to him like this again, depending on him as he used to. He’s gotten too independent lately, it’s nice to feel needed. After all, wolf or not, Sam is part of his family, his pack. He’ll do anything to keep him happy.

So he sits there and lets Sam fall asleep on him, rubbing the growing fawn’s sore head when he twitches, and hoping nothing else will change anytime soon.


	4. Closing the Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15 year old Sam gets hurt on a hunt. Dean doesn't take it well. (Suggestions of Wincest).

When Sam is fifteen, he gets seriously hurt on a hunt for the first time.

They thought he’d be safe by the car, he was only brought along to keep watch over any living victims they found and led back to him. He was supposed to stay out of the fight. They hadn’t bet on there being two of them.

Just when Dean had put down the one they knew of, he’d heard Sam scream. Not just scream, scream for him. The wolf had never moved so fast in his life, back at the car in an instant and pulling the beast off Sammy the next. John was right behind him, taking care of the surprise partner while Dean fell to his knees beside his baby brother.

“Sammy, Sammy, hey, hey, stay with me.” Dean babbled as he slid an arm around Sam’s back and the other under his knees. The kid was getting big, still thin but longer now, almost his height.

Sam slurred something like Dean’s name, eyes wide and scared. One of his antlers had snapped off, leaving him lopsided. There was blood everywhere, and Dean was too terrified to figure out where it was coming from. He got Sam into the car, held the fawn’s head in his lap, stroked his hair and murmured encouragingly.

The whole way to the hospital, Sam never took his gaze off his big brother. As long as Dean was there, everything would be okay. It had to be. They’d been pulling apart some lately, some unspoken distance between them that made him feel sick, but Dean was there now, and he wouldn’t leave him. Sam knew Dean would never let him die.

At the hospital, they had to take Sam away. Dean growled, baring his teeth, tail bushed out behind him. They had to pry him off, force him back and tell him over and over that he’d be the first to know when Sam was stabilized.

John sat down in the waiting room, hands clasped together, head bowed. Dean knew better than to think he was praying. The wolf couldn’t sit. He paced up and down for an hour straight, full of useless energy and directionless rage.

Sammy was everything to him. Too much to him, really. Lately he’d been pushing his little brother away. Sam was growing up, getting big and strong and… pretty. Dean had been noticing that a little too much lately, and hating himself for it. He’d forced himself to keep a distance from the teen, fearing he might cause harm to the most precious thing in his life. He could tell it had confused Sam though, and hurt him, and now he was cursing himself for it.

The doctors returned a little over an hour after they brought Sam in, explaining that he had some gashes across his chest, a broken rib, a broken wrist, and quite an impressive collection of bruises. “But he’ll be fine.” They assured with gentle smiles, leading them into the room where Sam was sleeping. “Don’t wake him.” They cautioned before leaving. John followed them, telling Dean to keep watch. As if he would have left.

Dean pulled a chair up to Sam’s bedside, hating how pale he looked. “I’m sorry Sammy.” He sighed, taking one of the fawn’s hands in both of his own. Sam was okay, he’d be okay. Mostly. Dean knew how this job fucked people up, how the nightmares could scar so much deeper than any wound. The thought of Sam waking up in cold sweats made his stomach turn. He just wanted to protect him, to keep him safe from all the awful things in the world. But those things included himself now. How could he protect Sam from everything else and himself?

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, leaning over and pressing the lightest possible kiss to the fawn’s lips. The contact was soft and warm and perfect, and all he wanted was to hold it. He forced himself back again instead, sighing.

“De?” The wolf startled when the hoarse voice spoke just a minute later, heart pounding guiltily. Sam just looked confused though, so he made himself smile and reach out, gently brushing back Sam’s hair.

“Hey. How’s my honorary little wolf doing?” A grin spread over Sam’s face then, lighting him up. He was so beautiful it made Dean’s heart ache.

“Fine.” Sam croaked out, though really that was an understatement. Hearing the nickname that Dean hadn’t used in a long time made his chest fill with warmth, dispelling any physical pain. The elder Winchester hadn’t been paying much attention to him at all lately, and it was selfish, but he’d missed his big brother terribly, had missed feeling like the most important thing in Dean’s world because Dean was the most important thing in his. Dean was everything to him. Maybe a little too much to him, but that was a problem for another day.

“Isn’t that sweet.” A nurse commented to her coworker as they walked past the window, behind which a fawn and a wolf were grinning at each other like nothing in the world mattered except the other. “You don’t see predator-prey couples much.”


	5. Drunken Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Sammy's sixteenth birthday, he gets drunk, and finally makes a move on his big brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long, hopefully the length makes up for it!

When Sam had been sixteen for exactly seven hours, he got drunk for the first time.

He’d had sips of Dean’s beer before, but this was different. This time he dug the half-full bottle of whiskey out of Dean’s bag, the one he’s not supposed to know about. He figured he could use some liquid courage, since he’d decided this is the night he does something really fucking stupid.

His brother was out picking up dinner for them, pizza with all the “gross stuff” Sam likes on top, and probably a cake too. He always foud Sam something sweet for his birthday, even if they can’t do presents. He’s good like that.

The fawn sat cross-legged on the couch and eyed the bottle, then finally unscrewed it. “Here goes nothing.” He muttered to himself, upending it. He only took the smallest sip before he had to yank the bottle away from him, gasping and coughing as the liquid burned his throat. A few choice swears escaped before he could calm down. After some deep breaths, he tried again. It was slow going, involving a lot of coughing and wondering how in the hell Dean did this regularly without so much as a sneeze, but eventually he got what he felt was enough down.

Ten minutes later, he decided that maybe he could use a little more. Just a little.

Half an hour later, the door finally opened.

“Sammy I-”

“DEEEEAN!” Sam scrambled to his feet, tripping off the couch and then righting himself, though he swayed slightly in place as he beamed at his brother. The wolf froze in the doorway, staring at Sam and then dropping his gaze to the bottle lying on its side on the table.

“Great.” He muttered to himself, going to set the pizza box on the table, along with a Safeway bag. Sam’s grin faltered, worry clouding his excitement at seeing his brother again. Dean’s been really touchy lately, well, more like for the past year. He jumps when touched, snaps at Sam more, and Sam’s pretty sure Dean’s been avoiding him too. They just don’t really hang out much, or ever, not anymore. He hated it. He missed his brother more than anything, missed being close to him. He thought he knew why Dean was acting so weird, because he’d been dealing with his own conflict over certain emotions, but still, he’s frightened that maybe he really is just an annoyance.

The teen shrank back as Dean stalked over and grabbed the bottle, peering at it and huffing. “What the hell, Sammy?” Sam lowered his head, rubbing a toe against a stain on the carpet.

“I’m sorry, De.” He mumbled, glancing back up again. His eyes were wide and his lower lip pushed out in a pout, an expression of petulance he hasn’t worn in a while. Unfortunately, it can still take Dean down in a second. The wolf sighed and set the now-mostly-empty bottle down again, running a hand through his hair.

“Why?” He shook his head, honestly bewildered. Sam wasn’t that kid. Sam was the good one, the smart one, the straight-edge. He kept his grades up, wanted to go to college. Dean would never have thought his baby brother would go and do something like this. Not even on his birthday.

“I…” Sam struggled for words, frowned, and then just shook his head, taking a step forward and then sort of falling the rest of the way, landing against Dean’s chest. “I love you, De.” He managed to get it out without much slurring, cheeks going even brighter red than they already were.

“I love you too, kiddo. Love my honorary little wolf.” Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, trying to keep Sam upright and stable.

“No, no.” The fawn shook his head furiously, nearly taking Dean’s eye out with one of his antlers by accident. “You don’t- I mean-” He let out a frustrated noise, the familiar old nickname making his heart fill with a twisted mix of love and fondness and sorrow for the closeness they’d lost recently. Then he was leaning in, because he was just about Dean’s height now and all he had to do was move forward, so he did. He closed the distance between them, and then Dean’s lips were against his own, and he was already warm all over from the whiskey, but this lit a whole different spark inside him.

It was gone just a second later, Dean jerking back like he’d been scalded, eyes wide. There was fear and confusion in his expression, and Sam’s was probably the same. The fawn opened his mouth to apologize, to take it all back, to beg forgiveness and mercy, but Dean cut him off. “You’re drunk.” It was statement, firm and sure. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Sam frowned. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he opened his mouth to tell Dean so. His brother cut him off. Again. He fell in love with such an ass.

“You need to go sleep this off so you can think straight again.” Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and push-pulled him towards the beds, dumping the fawn unceremoniously onto his own. “Sleep.” He commanded, pulling the covers up over his fully-clothed little brother. His voice managed to remain pretty calm considering he was panicking inside.

“Wait.” Sam finally got to speak just as Dean was turning to leave him there. He reached out and grabbed his brother’s wrist, blinking sadly up at him from his cocoon of blankets. “Stay with me?” He scootches over some. “You can stay on top of the covers, I promise-promise I won’t do nothin’.” Dean hesitated, but fuck, Sam’s pleading expression has never been something he could resist, so he caved and nodded, climbing up beside Sam.

“You gotta sleep though.” He insisted, feeling his heart flutter as Sam snuggled up to him.

\--------------------

Five hours later, Sam woke up, and then immediately regretted it. He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, heaving up the remnants of his lunch into the toilet. He never got dinner, so he’s a horrible mixture of nauseous and hungry, and his head is pounding, and it’s the middle of the night, and-

And he kissed his brother.

That memory wakes him up like an electric shock, causing him to groan and heave again. Dean’s going to kill him. Or worse, pretend like it never happened but avoid Sam like the plague forever now, quietly hating him. How could he have been so stupid? He planned to talk to Dean, he’d started out with the intention of drinking just to loosen up a little… He should have known better.

“Y’look awful.”

The fawn jerked his head up at the voice, and then groaned when the movement made his head throb. He was never, ever, drinking again. This shit sucked, Dean and their dad must be nuts to do it so much.

He swallowed and stood shakily, flushing the toilet and going to the sink. After he rinsed his mouth out, he turned to Dean, taking a deep breath and clenching his hands at his sides as he prepared to try and explain.

Dean held up a hand. That interrupting bastard. “Brush your teeth.” He gestured towards the toothbrushes beside the sink. Sam rolled his eyes, but obeyed. He was in no place to argue at the moment. Quickly, he scrubbed out his mouth and then rinsed again, then turned towards Dean with a raised eyebrow. Could he finally talk now?

Apparently not.

The wolf stepped forward, and then suddenly his hands were on Sam’s face, and his lips were on his again, and god this is so much better sober.

Talking is overrated anyway. Well, not too overrated, like when Sam nipped at Dean’s lower lip and his brother laughed, murmuring “I knew you had a wolf in you.” Sam didn’t have time to make a joke about how much he’d like to have a little wolf in him, he was too busy sinking his teeth into Dean’s neck as revenge instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: If you wanna see some smuttiness from these two, check out my "Tied to You" ficlet, it could easily be a continuation of this chapter.


	6. Not so Little Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a growth spurt. Dean's not a fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever, I'm sorry. But hopefully this fluff will make it up to you. AND I'm working on another chapter to be posted very soon as well (but it's gonna be reeeeally angsty).

When Sam is seventeen, he’s finally taller than Dean.

He’s truly taller this time, not just taller by antlers, which so don’t count (Dean vehemently defended this point until Sam gave up trying to argue).

It seems to happen overnight almost. Sure, for a while he’s been adjusting to growth spurts, always covered in bruises from running into things, but this is different. This is significant, because it’s not just tables and doors and fridges he’s misestimating; it’s Dean. The one person whose body he knows like his own. Well, like he used to know his own, before it gumbied on him.

They notice it when they kiss. Or rather, miss. When they became more than brothers, they were the same height, so it had been easy to just lean in and steal pecks or more anytime they liked. This particular morning though, their easy routine falls apart into a complete mess. They both lean in, but instead of matching up perfectly, Sam smooches Dean’s nose and Dean ends up uncomfortably mashing his lips against Sam’s chin. 

They pull back and blink at each other in confusion, and they can see in each other’s eyes that they both realize at the same time that instead of looking straight on at each other, Dean’s head is tilted a bit up, and Sam’s tilted a bit down.

“Oh my god.” Dean says finally, staring up at Sam in wide-eyed shock. Sam laughs and shakes his head.

“You’re the little one now!” He crows, triumphant and prideful as any younger sibling should be upon discovering they’ve outgrown the older. He places a hand on top of Dean’s head to tease him, and Dean’s ears flatten back. The wolf gives a low warning growl, but Sam ignores it. “Aw, so cute.” He coos, stroking Dean’s head like he’s just a pup.

“Watch yourself, Sammy.” Dean huffs, reaching up to swat at the fawn’s hand (he still thinks of his brother as a fawn, even now). “You’re still the little one. Honorary little wolf. I’m the big, actual wolf.”

“Prove it.” Sam taunts, though he pulls his hand back. Dean growls again.

Sam is tackled into the bed they just left, and shown that despite his extra inch of height Dean’s still his big brother in all the ways that count.


	7. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fawn!Sam leaves for Stanford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about this chapter taking so long, and being so angsty. Hopefully the length makes up for it :) Thanks to @Flufflybunnypants for being my beta.

When Sam is eighteen, it’s time to break his brother’s heart.

He never told Dean or John he was applying to college. He probably wouldn’t get in, right? And anyway, he couldn’t afford it on his own. Never told them when the letter came, with acceptance and a full ride. He had time, right? Better to ease into it, somehow. Then his birthday comes, and he’s out of excuses.

His birthday, which is also his and Dean’s second anniversary. For someone who’d always claimed to be allergic to romance, the wolf goes all-out for the day. He forces Sam to skip school, Just this once, Sammy, c’mon, it’s a special occasion, you’ve got perfect grades anyway ya’ nerd, and takes him out to the movies, to eat. If Sam asked for the moon, his brother would probably find a way to pull it down for him.

All Dean wants is to make Sam happy, it’s so obvious in the way his eyes brighten when Sam smiles, the way his ears perk and tail wags when Sam reacts positively to a gift or something Dean says. It’s in the way he kisses his brother, soft and sweet. Dean doesn’t kiss Sam like he used to kiss the girls he managed to pick up in every town and school. Unlike them, Sam is permanent. These kisses are a promise of thousands more to come. When he takes Sam to bed it’s to treasure every inch of him, to find the spots and moves he knows make Sam feel like stars are being born inside his body. To make him feel loved, an emotional high to rival the physical. Afterwards, Sam falls asleep in Dean’s arms, listening to the steady beat of his brother’s heart. Everything is perfect.

Or would be, without the heavy weight of that letter hanging over the young stag’s head. His birthday is just a month before graduation, and after graduation, there’s no way he can hide it anymore. Soon all the happiness he has with Dean, all the love they share, will be crushed.

A small part of Sam tries to hold out hope that maybe, just maybe, Dean will go with him. If he begs, if he pleads. With what they have now, how could they stay apart? He practices in his head a thousand times, preparing a speech to convince Dean to run away with him, spinning promises in his mind of the life they could have together. No one has to know they’re brothers. They could get an apartment, Dean could find a good, normal, non-deadly job.

Most of Sam knows this is nothing more than a fantasy, but still a part of him dreams.

He practices. And practices. And practices. Finally, a week before graduation, he knows his time is up. He’s waited long enough. Too long, probably.

John is off on a hunt, and usually that means he and Dean going at it like rabbits as soon as he gets home from school. Today, though, Sam spends the whole walk back steeling himself for what has been a long, long time coming.

“Dean?” He calls out as he enters the motel room, dropping his backpack on the table.

“Hey, Sammy.” The wolf looks up from his position sprawled across the couch, grinning at his little brother and opening his arms in an invitation for Sam to join him. The young stag walks over but stays standing by the side of the couch, nerves making him constantly shift and fidget.

“Can I, uh, talk to you?” Before the words are even out of his mouth he knows Dean can tell something is wrong. The older Winchester climbs to his feet, frowning as he steps forward and slips an arm around Sam’s waist to pull him in closer.

“‘Course, Sammy.” Fuck. Here it is. The moment of truth, what he’s been practicing, rehearsing, agonizing over and waiting for and suddenly he can’t breathe and all he can hear is his own heartbeat in his twitching ears.

“Dean I…” He chokes on the words, swallows hard, closes his eyes. It’s easier if he can’t see Dean, can’t see that earnest, concerned expression in his brother’s summer-green eyes. “I applied to college.” He pushes out in a rush, and once it starts the words come in a flood, jumbled and too quick. “Stanford. I got in, a full ride. I don’t- I can’t turn this down, De, I gotta go. As soon as I can after graduation. I’m going down there to set up a life, get a job, settle in. I want to do well there, Dean. I think- I think I can change my life. Maybe other people’s lives, if I’m lucky, I dunno. I just- I know I gotta go.”

“Wh…” The word trails off like Dean doesn’t have the energy to finish it, mouth hanging open as he stares at the anxious young buck, trying to comprehend the news bomb he’s been knocked over with. “Sammy, no!” He bursts out finally, over loud. It makes Sam flinch, and he immediately softens his voice. “Sammy, please. You can’t go, you can’t leave us. This is where you belong, with us, with me.” He clutches Sam’s hand, squeezing almost too tight.

“Come with me then.” Sam answers, breathless with hope he knows is probably unfounded, but he has to try. “Come with me. We can start a new life together.” There’s a moment of hesitation, want clear in Dean’s eyes, and for just a second Sam’s heart lifts. Then the wolf shakes his head, quick and jerky, and it sinks right through the floor.

“Sammy I can’t… I have a life, hunting is my life. I’m a hunter. I always have been, and I always will be. Anyway, I can’t leave dad alone.”

“Well, I’ve never been a hunter.” Sam counters, soft but firm as he reaches up and pets one of Dean’s ears, which have flattened back against his head in displeasure. “I’ve never fit in, Dean, you know that. I’m not like you and dad. I want to make myself a place at this school. I want to find a life that suits me.”

“But you do fit in, Sammy. You’re my honorary little wolf, aren’t you? You’re a Winchester.”

“I’m a stag, Dean, not a wolf.” His voice breaks on the words, finally, and he sees Dean recoil like he slapped him. “I’m not a wolf, and I’m not a hunter. I don’t belong in this life.” He takes a shaking breath, feeling the tears starting to course down his face. “I do still believe I belong with you, and I want you in whatever life I end up having.”

Dean kisses him then, hard, and Sam breaks down, salt of his tears coating their lips. He knows the kiss is Dean not being able to say no to him out loud, never being able to say no to him, but not being able to go with him either. It’s a goodbye, an ending, and Sam clings to the last of them as it falls to pieces.

They spend the night memorizing each other’s bodies as if Sam’s leaving in the morning, whispering promises and pleas against warm skin, pushing and pulling the other to stay, to go.

They float through the next few days uncertainly, Sam going through the motions of his finals without really remembering them minutes after they end. They come together at night like magnets each determined to bring the other to them, then drift apart again by morning, unable to find their footing.

John comes home three days later, able to tell something is off. He asks, Dean says they fought, he doesn’t follow up. With him home, their separation is true, final. No more stealing touches, sneaking kisses. Sam feels hollow, and he almost changes his mind, almost throws it all away because being without Dean after everything is nearly more than he can bear. But he doesn’t. He can’t.

John tells them they’ll move again after graduation, and Sam takes it as an excuse to pack his things. And a few of Dean’s shirts he hides away among his own.

The night after graduation, he shoulders all his worldly possessions in two bags, bus ticket in hand, and bids his furious father and broken-hearted brother goodbye. He tries to keep his back straight as he walks away, to pretend he’s as resolute as he wants to be instead of shaking and terrified. He won’t let himself break down until he makes it to the station.

He spends three hours there, muffling sobs against his duffel, feeling like he’s shattering. Finally, the bus comes and he gets on, watching his old life fade away into the dark night. There’s a new one ahead of him. Not as A Winchester, not as a hunter, not as Dean’s honorary little wolf. As just a stag, forging his own path.


	8. Birthdayversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's 21st birthday is a difficult anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really angsty and not anywhere near Sam's actual birthday but it's a thing that I finished so yay.

When Sam is 21, he gets a call.

It’s 1am, technically the day after his birthday, and he’s been home all of ten minutes. The evening had been taken up by going out to a bar with friends, and he fumbles for his phone, squinting through blurry vision until he figures out how to answer.

“Y’hmm?” He slides down until he’s laying across his couch, eyes closed, figuring it’s just a friend making sure he got home safe after his supposed “first experience” getting properly drunk. They all thought he was a precious little goody-two-shoes. He had to keep sneaking extra shots to get as wasted as they expected.

“Hap’ birfday.” The voice on the other end sings, loud and off-key. It’s slurred, muffled, but Sam tenses up immediately. He may be drunk, and the voice may be drunk, but he’d still know it anywhere.

“Dean…” The name feels alien on his lips now, unused for so long. He didn’t like talking about his family to people in his new life, even his friends. It hurt too much. It brought back that aching emptiness in his chest that had barely subsided after nearly three years.

“Wanted t-t’honor th’cassion…” Dean slurs out, and Sam sinks back into the couch again, closing his eyes. He can see it so clearly, Dean sprawled across a motel bed, a couple bottles lined up on the nightstand, maybe even a few on the floor. Probably in a t-shirt and jeans, or maybe just his boxers, tail flicking lazily from side to side and ears low. It’s so vivid, like he could be standing right at the foot of the bed. Like he could just crawl up beside his brother like he used to. His antlers hadn’t started growing yet, he could still tuck his head into the hollow of Dean’s throat, breath in the scent of him. “No’th’same wi’out ya.” His brother’s voice pulls him back to reality, alone in his dark apartment. Who even knew how far away Dean was.

“Dean.” It’s all Sam’s tongue seems capable of forming, right now. His brain is moving sluggishly, offering up far more in emotions and pictures than any form of solid, rational thought. Hearing his brother’s voice again brings up so much, chest aching with the need to reach through the phone lines and touch Dean again.

“Miss ya, m’hon’rary little wolf.” The words are mangled by the alcohol in Dean’s system, but still oh so familiar. Familiar enough to make Sam’s breath catch, stutter, and then he’s crying, sudden but hard. He tries to muffle it with a hand over his face, but he knows he can’t fool Dean. Not his brother, not his… He’s coming apart. The sobs wrack his body, like they did the night he left, the last night he heard Dean’s voice.

“I’s our ann’vers’ry, Sammy.” The wolf is crying too, Sam can hear it, his voice even thicker than before, shaky. The thought had been on Sam’s mind too, he’d hoped drinking would wash it away but here Dean was, dredging up all the pain and heartbreak that came with thinking of the years they’d been together, and now the years they’d been apart.

“I know.” Sam whispers, tears dripping down his cheeks, falling on his twitching ears. “Dean I-”

“Shhh.” His brother shushes him through the phone, and Sam can see him shaking his head, forcing a smile because the wolf always put on a brave face. “I know, Sammy.” He echoes, and they both sit there for a while, the silence stretching between them, filled with everything they want to say, but know will be too painful to hear.

“Happy ann’versary.” Sam murmurs finally, rubbing a hand over his face. He wants to beg Dean to come visit, to spew a thousand empty promises about how they could be together again, they could be just like they used to, if Dean would only realize he could have a life other than hunting. He knows that’s just a fantasy though, so he keeps quiet.

“Happy birfday, m’hon’rary little wolf.” Dean answers, and they both hang up before either can say anything stupid, anything that hurts any more than those words already ringing in their heads. 

Sam lays there for a long time, torn between the identity he’s worked so hard to create at college, and the one dredged up by Dean’s voice. Right then, drunk in the dark with a hole in his heart, he’d give up everything he fought for just to be curled up beside his brother right then, safe in Dean’s arms. Eventually, sleep overtakes him, and he dreams of just that; Dean’s touch and Dean’s smell and Dean’s warmth. But when he wakes he’s alone, sore and nauseous, and while he’d never give up his new life, the hole in his heart remains.


End file.
